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To be sure, she told herself, it is men who will decide what you are worth, not you. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #954)

Perhaps a hundred, or a hundred and fifty, perhaps high slaves, perhaps exquisitely, lengthily trained pleasure slaves, perhaps skilled dancers, perhaps such, but surely not she! Accordingly, instead of being excited and thrilled, she was apprehensive. There must be some mistake, she thought. I am not worth that much, she thought. To be sure, she told herself, it is men who will decide what you are worth, not you. How much I must have changed, she thought, if men, particularly in a general, improvised camp such as this, are willing to bid so much! Dare I think such thoughts? Dare I accept myself as being that attractive? Surely I must dismiss such thoughts. They are far too bold for a slave! There must be a mistake, a mistake of some sort! "Here, kajira," snapped the auctioneer, behind her. Quickly Ellen backed to him, that she might not cease to face the men, until she sensed that he was a foot or so behind her, to her right. - (Prize of Gor)